Scars and Apple Pie
by catmaniac
Summary: Castiel seems to be embarrassed by something. Dean is determined to find out what it is, even if he has to put down his beloved pie for a moment. Just a quick Destiel drabble based off of a comic I saw on Tumblr. Rated T for Dean's occasional potty mouth. Not set in any particular time frame, but I wrote this with a slight S5 mindset.


_AN: Okay, so I haven't written/posted anything in a while, but I got a sudden urge to yesterday, and here is the result. I only checked over it once, so there are probably a few mistakes here and there. Oh well! Hope you enjoy. :)_

_Oh, I obviously don't own Supernatural. I never have and I never will. I just love it dearly. _

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Dean hummed happily as he ate a giant mouthful of apple pie. Sam was a good brother, but when he actually remembered to bring home pie - as opposed to cake, which is definitely not the same thing - he was a great brother. It was especially nice when the pie was still fresh, and not crushed into tiny pieces after being left on a store shelf for weeks at a time.

He took another massive bite and smiled, wondering if the day could get any better. He, along with Sam and Cas, destroyed a nearby vampire hideout the day before, and Dean slept peacefully that night without a single stir. He then woke up just before noon to see his brother walk through the door with two of his favorite things: pie and beer. And then Sam headed out to do some "research" at the "library", which was the lamest excuse to hang out with a girl ever, leaving Dean to his own devices for the remainder of the afternoon.

Dean smiled. He was definitely a happy camper.

He was halfway through the apple pie that he planned on finishing, thank you very much, when he heard a ruffle of feathers from behind him. He turned, already knowing what would meet his eyes, but still his heart hammered deep in his chest from anticipation. And when his eyes took in the usual rumpled form of his friend, he couldn't stop himself from grinning wolfishly.

"Hey Cas, what's up?" He managed after a few moments of his blatant staring.

"Just stopping by to check up on you," The angel examined Dean briefly from afar. He cleared his throat, which did nothing to aid his perpetually husky voice, and shifted uncomfortably when Dean didn't so much as twitch in response, which was odd for the angel. "It appears as though you are well, I'll be going-"

Dean shook his head and cut him off, "nah, it's ok. Come sit with me and have some pie." He put a paper plate on the other side of the table and smiled when the angel walked over. His cheerful expression stiffened when he saw Castiel tense and ease his way into the creaky motel chair, slower than usual. "Hey, buddy, you okay?"

Castiel quickly nodded his head in affirmation, obviously not wanting to be a burden of any sort. Dean, however, was not buying it.

"Are you sure?" He didn't mean to sound like his bitchy, naggy brother. It just came out that way since he was genuinely worried.

Castiel shot him a slightly annoyed look. "Yes, Dean. I am alright. Just a bit agitated."

Dean snorted. "Oh, man, something big must have happened to piss you off. What's got your panties in a bunch?" He was reached over the table and handed his friend a fork.

The angel just shook his head and accepted the fork he was offered. "It is not of any importance," he replied, and reached for the pie tin.

Dean predicted this move and quickly snatched the apple pie away. "Nope. You don't get to try any until you tell me what's wrong." He smiled internally when he saw his friend's eyes widen and frown deepen slightly. "Come on, Cas. You know you want the pie, right? Just tell me."

Castiel sighed, but relented to Dean's persistence. "Alright." He rubbed his chin, a hauntingly humanlike gesture, before continuing. "Do you remember those vampires we rid of last night?"

"Yeah, man. We ganked 'em pretty good, huh?" The hunter's eyes gleamed. He was unsure as of what this had to do with anything, but he went along with it.

The angel was reluctant to keep the story going, and Dean became more concerned as the seconds of silence ticked by. "Do you also happen to remember when one sent me flying into the large pile of debris?"

Dean's concern increased tenfold as he vaguely remembered his friend soaring through the air toward a pile of very sharp looking, nail-filled boards. "Oh. Yeah, actually. Good thing you're an angel, right? You can heal really quick and stuff. I mean, if you're okay that is, are you-" Dean caught himself before the verbal vomit got too extreme.

"I'm okay, except..." He swallowed, before going on in his deep, gravelly voice. "Angels are supposed to heal perfectly whenever we're injured. I just don't understand..." He looked down into his lap, obviously seething with frustration.

The hunter felt his eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Understand what?"

Castiel paused again before continuing, "a large nail punctured me, but instead of healing, it left a strange, bumpy white mark."

Dean's surprise must have been evident in his eyes, because he saw his friend shift in embarrassment when he finally got the confidence to make eye contact again. "You mean, like a scar?" Dean tried not to sound abrasive, which is how he ended up replying anyway. He couldn't stop himself from saying, "lemme see, just to be sure it's nothing bad." Well, no turning back now, right?

The angel's anxiety returned and his gaze shifted away slightly. "It's in a bit of an awkward place, Dean. I'm sure you're right. It's probably just a scar. I've never seen one before, other than the mark I made on your shoulder that shows how profou-"

Dean tried not to allow a light flush creep onto his cheeks, and he swallowed thickly around a strange wave of his own humiliation. Cas always had to bring up their 'profound bond', as if Dean could forget about something like that. "Lemme see it, Cas. Come on, man. I can assure you, I have probably seen worse."

Dean was no wimp. He had probably stitched himself and his own brother up hundreds of times, stabbed several different kinds of monsters, and even visited an autopsy or two. He was anything but queasy, - other than during his bout of ghost sickness, but he was not about to remember that - and if hunting had benefited him in any way, it had made him nut up and deal with blood and guts on a weekly basis. He was prepared for just about anything, and didn't expect much more than a little scratch on his friend's arm or something.

He simply waited while Castiel reluctantly stood up and removed the ever-rumpled trenchcoat - he looked positively alien without it - and the dark, worn jacket beneath it. However, Dean shifted uncomfortably when Castiel reached for his tie and began to loosen it. His voice was small and weak when he asked, "hey, umm, what are you doing?"

Castiel stopped. "I told you, it was in an awkward place." His hands shook slightly as he continued to loosen his tie, and finally tore the half-assed knot open.

Dean swallowed hard as he watched deft fingers moved over the buttons, easily popping them open one-by-one. The hands paused when they finally reached the last button, and then suddenly the shirt was opened.

Dean had but a few seconds to gaze at the lean chest before him - a soft, creamy, white color, lean sculpting of muscles, and a light dusting of freckles, which was more than enough to send blood rushing down to the hunter's groin - before he noticed a tiny white scar right below the jutting collarbone. Before he could really get a good look at it, though, the shirt was wrapped quickly around the angel again, and there was a light flush creeping up the now concealed body and onto his neck and face.

Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Well, shit. He was definitely not expecting the scar to be there or the exposure of his friend to have that effect on him. There was only one thing he could think of to do to fix this situation. He set down the forgotten pie tin on the table, which now had huge dents in the side from where he had squeezed it a few moments ago, and looked at Castiel.

"Come on, man," he managed, clearing his throat in a failed attempt to chase his arousal away. "I didn't get a good enough look. Let me see it again."

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_AN: Inspired by this post on tumblr (use the short tumblr url): /ZT0j2xXldDz6_


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